


Purple, Pink, Crushes, & Polaroids

by capricious_Bastard



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: About-to-drop-out-emo-slash-bad-boy-slash-black-slash-Idon'tevenknowanymore!Shiki, Highschool Senior!Rikka, Lowkey wanted to make Shiki a criminal though, M/M, The ending's pretty open, take what you will from it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capricious_Bastard/pseuds/capricious_Bastard
Summary: Rikka subconsciously takes a photo of a (very good looking, very cute) purple haired boy, and unknowingly falls in love after one conversation with him.Shiki is lost and empty. He doesn't understand what he feels anymore, but seeing a pink haired boy made him breathless and very gay, so that says something.
Relationships: Sera Rikka/Takamura Shiki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Purple, Pink, Crushes, & Polaroids

**Author's Note:**

> Trust me, I don't know either. It's ShikiRikka though, so.

He's always been a good boy, obeying his parents, wanting nothing more than for the simple things that life has to offer.

As a child, he'd been polite, barely asking for anything fancy, or expensive. As an only child, his parents doted and spoilt him as much as they could, wanting nothing for their only son but the best that they can offer. 

He's grateful, always, for such caring parents. But the only thing that he ever really demanded–he requested, not demanded–from his parents were strawberries and a polaroid camera.

He was walking, one particularly warm day, when the small café he always visited had posted about a new flavour of ice cream and cake. "Strawberry Season! Red and pink that makes one's heart flutter with its saccharine flavour and pucker up in its sourness!" He remembered it so clearly as curiosity gotten into him, asking himself how exactly had he not tasted the two-toned flavour that a strawberry has to offer. 

Needless to say, he developed a sort of infatuation with strawberries and their explosive flavour that day.

The day he wondered what exactly had been so fascinating with cameras was the day he just finished his usual visit with the small café that now served his favourite regularly. The sun was setting, an explosion of colours of purple, pink, yellow, orange, and blue all layered and spread out as if he was staring at a painting and not at the expanse of the heavens. It took his breath away, burning the image into his mind to the point he could see them with his eyes closed. 

He immediately went to the nearest shop specializing in cameras and asked about the differences in each one. A polaroid was what caught his attention, the fact that he can take a picture and have it printed; have the very same scenery he saw through the viewfinder within his hands in seconds made him want it.

He didn't want to ask for such things immediately however, with much thought and telling himself to take his chance, he asked, sheepishly and shyly like a child too embarrassed to show their first drawing that they made in Kindergarten, for a polaroid and strawberries during dinner one night when his parents had asked what he wanted for a present. 

They didn't ask why, just smiled their soft smiles and fondness sparkling in the depths of their eyes, and when his birthday rolled around, he and his mother bought a bag full of strawberries, and the present he got was a pink polaroid camera, his parents say that he wore the biggest and brightest smile that day. Glowing like their very own little piece of sunshine. 

Not a day passed when he wasn't taking pictures, even just the simplest things in his day to day life. 

The road he walked on his way to school, the park he passes by, the small café he visits on Wednesdays, the little flowers of their garden. Each photo hidden in a box underneath his bed. 

Breath caught in his throat one afternoon though, a small hitch of his breath that has him lowering the camera just the tiniest bit to peer over it as he looks—watches—a purple haired boy walk by, wearing a red plaid button up and jeans that had holes, exposing his knees and white skin. 

He likes to think that he wasn't caught staring or wasn't caught taking a picture because of how loud the shutter had been and how the flash was too obviously pointing in his direction. He likes to think that he didn't hang the picture on the headboard of his bed, likes to think that his mother hadn't caught him with flushed cheeks and hugging a pillow all too tightly as he stared—studied—the features of the man in the photo.

Whenever he was free, he would stop by the park, silently waiting, perhaps hoping to see the man once again, taking pictures in the process and writing down the dates on the excess space as they passed. He would point the lens on the swing, maybe at the bright clear sky above him, beside him, take a picture, and wait for it to develop as he immediately scribbles down the date and little captions that run through his mind. 

Thus, when he takes a picture of a purple flower with legs that had come onto the frame last second, blurry and almost eerie once the photo developed, he nearly screamed in fright until dark purple eyes looked down at him from where he's crouching on the gravel. 

The man's hair is slicked back, one too many rings wrapped around his fingers, a silver dot on the lobe of his ear, black boots with washed out jeans and a black t-shirt. And he realizes a second later that the man is holding onto a cone with pink coloured ice cream and bits of strawberry sprinkled on top, barely registering the man’s other occupied hand with another cone. 

"I, uh…" He spoke, awkward and voice a little high, "I noticed you ordering this last week, and uh-um…" He couldn't help but find it strangely endearing and also maybe a bit creepy upon hearing that he was being watched. Then again, he wasn't in a position to talk considering he was the one who took a picture of the man weeks ago.

"I'm Shiki!" He squeaked out, pink flaring his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

He wanted to coo. 

"I'm Rikka." He replied as he slowly stood, putting the strap of the polaroid around his neck before reaching a hand out for a hand shake. 

"Uh…" The man stuttered out, trying to decide if he should do the same before awkwardly trying to move his hand when both of his hands are occupied with slowly melting ice cream. 

"Oh, right…" He mumbled, reaching out to take the strawberry flavoured ice cream, and immediately giving the scoop a lick. A hum of content escapes him from the back of his throat. Before he reaches out his hand once again, and this time, Shiki takes it with a small smile.

They spend the day on the swings, eating their ice cream cones that Shiki bought for them, leisurely swaying in them as the sun went from a bright yellow to a soft orange. Their conversations were about nothing and everything; switching from topic to topic as if it's the most natural thing to do. 

He found out that Shiki is a first year in college with plans to drop out—"I found that it isn't my kind of thing, to be told on what kind of music I should be doing;" found out that the man wanted to write and create his own music; found out that his parents, although exasperated and shocked at his decision at first, fully support him.

He also found out that Shiki's staying at his friends' place, about a 20 minute walk away from his parents' house, and that's where he writes and makes his own music.

Despite the man's choice in clothing, he realized just how dorky and talkative he can be whenever he talks about music; he realized just how passionate a purple haired Takamura Shiki is for his music with his self-taught piano skills and basic knowledge of guitar and bass chords.

The day ended with the soft orange glow showering them in a golden touch, especially Shiki that made him seem like a pale vampire coming out for the night to feed, he doesn't look sickly though, with his pale skin instead he seemed to be glowing, his skin nearly shimmering under the orange glow of the sun, like a Twilight vampire, as much as he doesn’t want to think about that. 

"Would you mind," he started, breathing in deep before he stood and walked to stand a few feet away in front of Shiki, "if I took a picture of you-?" 

If he noticed the small smile on Shiki's face, he didn't say anything. 

They parted ways shortly after—"I'll see you later, Rikka." Shiki had told him, his smile looking like a smirk against the light of the setting sun before shaking his hand again and turning around, walking away like he hadn't just insinuated that Rikka ( _ they _ ) could, perhaps, spend time with him ( _ together _ ) again like they just had. Certainly, his heart didn't beat two times faster, his stomach didn't feel as if it was twisting with anticipation and excitement, his cheeks definitely didn't feel a bit warm despite the chilly late Spring breeze setting upon the area as the sun dipped in the horizon.

Rikka came home with one more photo to giddly pin on the headboard of his bed. 

Nearly a month passes, his classes getting hectic as he's in his last year of high school and he needs to prepare for entrance exams with universities and colleges. The schedule he had set before on his visits to his favourite café has reduced and became once every two weeks on a Friday because Wednesdays are filled too much with things he needs to put first into his priorities. Despite this, however, he finds himself still hoping to catch Shiki walking down the street on his way home or maybe in the café during his visits, being much more attentive of the surroundings when he recalled how Shiki noticed him and his love for strawberry during their first official meeting. 

Rikka's surprise must be obvious on his features when he stumbles upon the purple haired man walking out of the café in the morning with a four-cup tray of coffee. 

"Rikka."

"Shiki…" He blinked, glancing at the tray, his brows furrowing together slightly. 

"Good morning." Shiki curtly gave a nod, staring all over his face if his shifting gaze were anything to go by.

"Good morning to you too," he answers back, swallowing before speaking again, "Isn't that a lot?"

Shiki blinks at him, eyes slightly wide before looking down at the tray in his hand, silently asking what Rikka meant.

"Uh… I mean, you mentioned that there were only two of you, you and your friend, isn't two cups of coffee per person a bit too much-?"

Then again, Rikka preferred tea than coffee, as he can only stomach one cup and still function throughout the whole day with that.

Shiki then looks back at him, gapes before looking back at the tray in his hand, "Well-um… This is-," he pauses, as if in thought of what to say, looks back at Rikka again after a few seconds of silence, "Yeah, maybe it is, but you get used to it, you know." He shrugged.

Rikka doesn’t really ‘know’, but he’ll take the older boy’s word for it.

“Oh,” he mumbled out in response, barely nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Something in Rikka told him that Shiki could, mayhaps, be lying about what he said but one glance down at the watch on his wrist has him jolting in attention. Shiki opens his mouth to ask but Rikka immediately shot out an "I need to go, it was nice seeing you again, Shiki-!" A bit hurriedly before jogging past the older man in his haste to class. 

"You," he spoke, watching him get farther away, "-too, I guess…"

Rikka got to school in the nick of time, just five minutes to spare before its official start, and had him slumping on his desk, resting his jaw on the palms of his hands as he breathed in, the barely-there sweat on his back drying too slowly for his liking that when he leaned back in his chair earlier, it had him frowning a bit in disgust at the sensation.

A minute into class, pencil in hand and notebook laid out in front of him, had him thrown back to the events several minutes before. He saw Shiki again, and for some reason it had his stomach twisting, the recollection had him wanting to smile at the fact that he saw him again after the weeks they hadn't seen one another. 

The day went by, and the thought of Shiki and his tray of four steaming cups of coffee quietly lingering in the forefront of his mind.

A desired day off had him waking up slightly later than usual. The sun shining in through his drawn back curtains and window, face buried in his pillow and his duvet spread out around him but somehow exposing his feet into the cool air of his bedroom.

He turns his head away from the direction of the sunlight, sighing out as he hugs the pillow loosely against his head, blinks through the haze of waking up at—…

“9:30,” he announces to himself, voice low and heavy with sleep and drowsiness.

At 9:30 in the morning.

Breakfast was about an hour ago, his father would have left for work, and his mother is probably out buying ingredients for their lunch; he’s alone. And that alone has him wanting to keep sleeping, but going back to sleep after he’d woken up was never his thing despite how the ache in his body, and the exhaustion of running around and constant studying has him wanting nothing but to spend the day as lazy as he can.

He turns his head to the other side, looking up at his headboard briefly before finally pushing himself up and away from the comforts of his bed, pink strands falling while some are tangled and sticking out. With arms and hands up in the air, he bends his back and stretches, joints cracking and bed creaking from the movement. Rikka then stands to prepare for the day but not before glancing back at the headboard and a feeling his chest flushes with subconscious anticipation.

A quick breakfast, then a well-deserved bath, a bit of quiet and basking in the warmth the sun provides into his room, before helping his mother for lunch.

“Do you have plans for today?”

“I was thinking of going on a stroll and then take some photos in the park for a bit before going home.”

“Hm,” Rikka’s mother hums, thoughtfully, “You’re not going to see that boy? With the purple hair?”

Rikka pauses, his heart jumping as he lowers his head in embarrassment. “It depends, I guess…” He murmurs.

She leans, their arms pressing together, then in a whisper as if other people would hear her, she says, “Ask him for his number.” In an all too serious tone of voice.

“Mom-!” He responds, pink flaring his cheeks.

“What?” She asks, genuinely taken aback, “He’s cute.”

“I-,” he pouts, “I know that.” He replies even when his mother still hasn't personally seen Shiki, only seeing the photos that he has pinned to his headboard. 

“Then ask him for his number!” She hisses out in a whisper once again as if someone else might catch onto their conversation and interrupt them, “Or maybe ask him out on a date.”

“Mom…”

“I’m serious,” she replies, looking him in the eye, “If you need help, you can text me and I’ll give you real-time advice.”

He merely groans out, covering his face momentarily as she laughs out, heartily and genuinely before she puts her focus back on the stove. She nudges him, gesturing briefly when Rikka peaked through the space between his fingers, for him to get back to cutting up vegetables.

Everything else went fairly well after that, they set up the table, ate, cleaned the used utensils and dishes together, sat on the couch and watched together in a peaceful quiet and heavenly serenity that he didn’t get from all the stress and hectic hurriedness from school and meeting personal goals and expectations.

As Rikka got ready, tying up his hair into a low but loose ponytail, the clock had just struck the 3’o’clock mark, he picked up his camera, placed it in a bag along with extra films, his wallet and cellphone, a few pens and markers, he said his momentary farewell and closed the door behind him.

The sun was bright but welcoming and warm, the sky a warm and calming shade of blue, he couldn’t help but think of how perfect it felt for a day off, and strolled.

*

The sound of the camera's shutter goes off and he smiles a small smile, watching the cat lazily yawn. "Thank you" he chimes to the cat who blinks at him slowly before closing its eyes, as put the printed picture into his bag and standing up from his crouched position on the ground. 

"I didn't peg you to be a cat person." A familiar voice spoke behind him. It's strange how the man's voice already sounds so familiar despite the very little amount of times that they've met. Although the longest they've spoken to each other was during their first meeting, it still usually wasn't enough for him to determine whose voice it is, but with him, it sounds soothing, calming and pleasing to hear—in all honesty, he wants to hear more. 

"I find cats to be pleasing and relaxing to be with but that doesn't make me any less of a dog person either." 

The man hums, walking beside him, crouching down and reaching his hand out to pet the animal, "I don't own any cats or dogs, but I guess that's true." 

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow at this, "What do you own then?" 

"Well, it's more like I caught them if anything." 

Rikka shudders and gulps at this, "H-huh?" 

"I own beatles, caught them from the little forest not too far from here." 

He takes a small step back, "Is that so", the thought of their little legs crawling around causing him to inwardly shiver with unease. He was never good with bugs. 

"I didn't expect to see you today." Shiki comments, as if he's talking to himself, finally drawing his hand back and standing up carefully, like an old man with aching knees. 

"Were you waiting for me?"

Rikka tilts his head slightly, a small smile on his lips and light pink tinting his cheeks as he watches Shiki blink his eyes, slowly, like the cat had done before. 

"You could say that."

Rikka hums, as if he's thinking about the other's reply and swallowing it down to fully process it.

"Are you free right now?" Shiki asks, quietly, like he doesn't really want to say it aloud, it sounds shy and tentative quite a contrast to the serious expression he's sporting.

"I have time."

He gestures to the direction of the café they both seem to frequent at. "Can I–", he pauses, gulps and licks his lips, "Can I buy you some coffee?" 

"A bit too late for coffee, don't you think?" His voice sounds confident, when in reality his heart is jumping and beating all too loudly in his chest. 

"Tea, then?" Shiki corrects, meekly, biting down the inside of his cheek.

Rikka grins at this, cheeks flushed and feeling all too giddy. "Okay!" He nods, all too giddy to be spending time with someone he barely really knows but that fact and thought is buried somewhere where the light doesn't touch his thoughts. 

Their walk to the café was short despite them not speaking to each other when they so clearly could as a way to ease themselves into a comfortable atmosphere but that doesn't happen. Instead, their silence is mutual and comfortable on its own as they enter the small establishment, the door clinging as it's opened, and they fall into the short line in front of the register.

The person behind the counter's eyes light up with recognition and doesn't need to be told twice on what their order is due to how frequent they both come and spend their time there.

"I didn't think you two would actually become a couple", says the barista, a coy smile on his lips. Rikka's cheeks feel warm at the implication, opening his mouth to retort that they  _ aren't _ a couple, or even close to being  _ friends _ but Shiki's already responding with a neutral face with that cool and smooth voice of his that makes Rikka desperately wish that he didn't just imagine that voice whispering sweet nothings into his ear because that was quite the escalation of his thoughts that shouldn't even be present when he barely knows the man, over something minuscule like hearing his voice. 

"We're not a couple. We're just two acquaintances getting coffee." 

The barista rolls his eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that, dude." 

"Remind me again how you even got hired here." 

The barista grins, flicks his head to the side as if he's flipping his hair over his shoulder when it's tied into a low and small bun, "I'm kicking you out with this disrespect." 

"Oh no", Shiki monotonously replies with and Rikka can't help but giggle. 

The barista looks at him, blinks then leans while cupping one side of his mouth in an attempt to cover his mouth from Shiki's view, "You know," he starts, his voice too loud, losing the purpose of him hiding his mouthing, "Don't let his eboy-looking aesthetic fool you. He's a really big dork, you wouldn't believe how much he gushes—" 

"Thank you Takaaki for serving our drinks-!"

Shiki cuts off, a slight red prominent on his cheekbones and a bright scarlet on the tips of his ears and nape, he's blushing, but it's not that evident on his face.

The barista, Takaaki, smirks, hands them their drinks and Shiki immediately leads him to a table by the small of his back. Although it caught him off guard, the feeling of the older man's touch on him isn't as awkward as he thought it would be.

"You know him?" Rikka asks, trying to be conversational, "Uh, Takaaki-san?" He clarifies. 

Shiki sighs, quiet but with a small fond smile, "Yeah, he's the friend that I mentioned, the one I'm staying with." 

"Oh", Rikka hums, taking a sip of his drink.

And it falls quiet again, the coziness of the café not really doing anything with how awkward the atmosphere between them became due to Takaaki's words.

The words swirl around, pushing and prodding into the very forefront of his thoughts as the same swirl carefully makes itself known in his stomach,  _ butterflies _ , he tells himself, reminds himself that this man is a complete stranger, yet he can’t help but bite down on the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from smiling at the thought that Shiki thinks and even talks about him to his friends.

He should be embarrassed that he’s been the subject of someone’s conversation but he isn’t, which is strange because he’s never really liked the idea of being the center of attention for too long before; for Shiki though, perhaps he likes it—just a bit though.

Shiki openly stares at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes blinking slowly as if he’s afraid to close his eyes and find that Rikka had been nothing but a figment of his imagination, however with every second that passes, every blink of his eyes, he finds that Rikka really is in front of him, in the café that he once saw the pink haired teen, looking absolutely gorgeous in the sunlight's orange hues filtering through the window he sat by with a camera in hand, a slice of strawberry cake sitting in front of him, lithe fingers curling around the handle of his tea cup, he found Rikka to be simply  _ stunning _ that day—perhaps ‘stunning’ isn’t the word, Rikka looks absolutely “ _ Ethereal _ .”

Rikka looks up, finally looks at Shiki in the eyes once again, “Huh?”

“Huh?” Shiki responds back, eyes widening slowly as if he had just realized what he said. “No-!” He shoots, “I mean, uh, you look-”, he sighs, tiredly, as he lowers his head, “I meant to say you look beautiful today. Even more so and I-”, he sighs once again, his cheeks turning pink, his ears red, that causes Rikka giggles at the sight of.

And Shiki shoots his head up, watching the way Rikka’s cheeks blush a light pink, his lips curl into an angelic smile. He swallows, “I’m not a photographer, but may I borrow your camera for a bit?”

Rikka’s eyes show his confusion but nonetheless pulls his polaroid out of its bag and carefully hands it over. He watches as Shiki turns the camera on, turning it this way and that for a short moment before he closed an eye, looked through the viewfinder, pointing the lens at him. “Are you going to take a picture of me?” He asks, voice a bit quiet, stomach swirling in anticipation.

“Would you I mind if I did?”

He shakes his head and Shiki hums contentedly, positioning the camera again. “Rikka”, he calls out, “Look up, please.”

And he does, a click goes off along with a flash and shutter, and soon the familiar sound of a photo being printed is ringing around them as it leisurely comes out from the slit on the bottom of the camera.

Shiki sets the camera down and takes the photo, he places it down near Rikka’s cup and they wait for the picture to develop. Once it does, Shiki smiles wide like a pleased child although he prefers seeing Rikka in the flesh, actually looking at him, he finds himself content that the picture came out better than he’d hoped. Then Rikka takes the photo and hands it to him.

“You took it, you should keep it.”

“I-”, that wasn’t his intention, he just thought that Rikka always seemed to be the one behind the camera and for once should be in front of it. But those pink irises look at him through darker pink lashes that he mayhaps want to kiss and count before finding himself to be nodding at Rikka’s offer. “Okay…” He murmurs, takes the photo and looks at it for a second too long before setting it down near his cup.

Rikka takes his camera back and puts it away. He watches it all, it sounds creepy whenever he reminds himself that he’s been staring, looking, for too long but he can’t look away, he doesn’t want to, perhaps physically unable to when Rikka looks so at ease and relaxed, and it takes his breath away.

The moment is broken, though when his phone starts ringing and vibrating in the pocket of his jeans.

“What?”

“Just letting you know that I’m finally done with my shift.” Came Takaaki’s voice, and he glances around, notices a different barista behind the counter. “Oh by the way, y’all are cute and all but you’re staring at him too much. He’s still in high school, dude.” A chuckle comes after the statement.

“I know that…” He responds, rolling his eyes and maybe ignores the twinge of hurt the fact gave him.

“Shiki?” Rikka calls out quietly, looking at him confused and questioningly.

“Anyway, I’m in the back, if you’re still down then you know where I am, see ya.” And Takaaki hangs up quickly. Shiki purses his lips, his friend’s words echoing. Perhaps, for a moment there, he forgot why exactly he had been keeping his distance from Rikka for nearly a month long when he first saw him.

“Sorry”, Shiki says, loud and clear, but throat dry and chest tight, “But something came up and I have to leave earlier.”

“Oh”, Rikka replies with, eyes sweet and understanding, “That’s okay. I understand.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll-”, he takes the photo, puts it in his back pocket carefully and standing completely, the chair screeching behind him, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. " Maybe he's making a promise he can't really keep, maybe he isn't, he's not sure.

“That’s okay too.”

“Bye, Rikka.”

“Bye, Shiki.”

* * *

The smoke curls and swirls up to the short ceiling, inhaling the sweetest thing like his life depended on it.

He licks his lips, puts the seat down and stares at the stains decorating his friend’s car. The smell may be sweet but it's too overpowering for him to fully enjoy the way he inhales despite how the smoke liberates him even for a brief second. 

He breathes out,  _ tired _ , closes his eyes because he just feels so tired. Perhaps empty. The thought of going back to his dorm room all the way in the city too exhausting for him. The papers he left would still be splayed about on the floors, the dirty dishes still waiting to be washed in the sink, the opened books and notebooks still filled with messy scrawls and scratchy handwriting if he ever decides to come back; he doesn't understand why he accepted to taking the course when actually hates it.

But he also hates how he gave up half-way through like this, running away, and it makes him feel even more of a coward than he already does. He thought escaping and trying to go back to writing music like he did would cause him to stop pushing the boulder up the hill, but it didn't, it just felt like it weighed even more every time he picked up a pencil and looked at a music sheet. 

He once texted his mother, told her how his schedule is free and currently staying at his friends' place, reassured her that he's going to come back in a week or so and keep his grades up; it's all lies though and it made his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his taste buds tingling with a mix of sourness and bitterness for having been lying to her. 

It tastes awful but he still can't find the heart to tell her that he's been gone for nearly a week now, spending time with the people that his parents once worried and understandably scowled at and talked about behind their backs when he first introduced them in his last year of highschool.

He doesn't tell her the truth when he can barely understand what he feels, so he lied.

“Let’s just go already.” He murmurs into the smokey air and Takaaki leans down to him, lips close to his. Shiki senses his presence and opens his eyes to find light purple irises staring down at him. He parts his lips slightly, Takaaki blows while he inhales.

The sensation is lifting, makes his chest feel lighter and less constricted, less hurt. The weight lifts off his shoulders.

“Okay”, Takaaki sing-songs, turning the car’s engine on, shifts gears, and drives off.

The ride is quiet, soft Jazz playing from the radio courtesy of Shu who wanted something to listen to as they pass by the buildings before it becomes trees and the road becomes car-tracked soil.

Takaaki stops the car, tells them that they’re there and gets out immediately. Shu follows along, he feels the car dip and sway but the car door doesn’t close, so he thinks that maybe Shu’s going to come back. A minute passes and he doesn’t, Shiki finally decided to get out too and he quickly finds a trail of clothing leading to the river several meters away from him, Takaaki in his underwear, standing with the rushing water, hunched over and doing god knows what meanwhile Shu’s nowhere to be found. 

A distant sound of a motorcycle comes breaking through the silence and Takaaki shouts, “They’re here, baby!” Like an excited child.

“Shiki!” A familiar voice calls out to him and he turns, sees the way the Harley comes closer, blond hair peeking out from a black helmet, Roa’s bright smile in place. Then he comes to a stop a few feet away from him, Rei throwing his leg over and getting off of the motorcycle like he always does while Roa kicks the stand into place and turns the engine off.

The night continued on with bottles, smoke and fire, shouting that should be singing, spray cans and masks, blood and bruises, tattoos, and more piercings to his collection. It's a last ditch effort, but he's already finished his second bottle of whiskey, enjoying the way the burn of the drink goes throughout his body and settles into the pit of his stomach. He barely gets  _ this _ drunk but he's tried so hard to get to this point that he doesn't really care what happens next. He's not black-out drunk but not just "drunk" either, so when he finds himself standing in front of a mirror, piercings in a place where he blearily remembers getting pierced, he stares.

Shiki squints, never having thought of getting them pierced before this. Then something starts to ring in the back of his head, his head pounding too much for him to process it clearly. It's until a shout rips through the very little space between a pair of lips and his ears that he jolts into a slightly sober headspace. 

“Shiki!”

“What?”

Roa raises an eyebrow at him, hand on his hip, and Shiki can’t help but see him as the spitting image of his mother who’s more than ready to scold and tell him off, but Roa doesn’t do that, instead, he rolls his eyes then like a switch, his demeanour changes, looks down to gaze at his naked chest, walking closer. “This is the stupidest thing you got pierced.” He chuckles for a second before flicking one of his newly pierced nipples and he hisses in pain.

“What the-”

“Try getting a prince Albert next time.” Roa gives him a sly grin, before turning around and walking out of the shop. He missed the way Roa winked at him knowingly, his head swimming in both pain and alcohol but he stores the idea, nonetheless, in the back of his mind even though he isn't sure what a "prince Albert" exactly is.

When he wakes up in the next morning, it's with a terribly dry throat and a pair of slightly throbbing nipples, his shirtless chest soaking in the sunlight filtering in from the windows.

He looks around, glaring at his surroundings before pushing himself to sit up, tilting his side to side, his joints popping as he did before he opens the door and gets out with a slam. Shu groggily glares at him through the window before going back to sleep. He immediately spots Takaaki on the hood, sleeping with his arm as a pillow, Rei is leaning against the Harley, and Roa surprisingly stays balanced on the vehicle, still sleeping but with a smile on his face. 

Rei spots him and he quickly puts his phone away, greeting him with a slight nod along with a "Morning". He breathes out, mumbles out a greeting back as he walks up to him. Rei's expression is soft, a smile still mysteriously in place as he looks at Shiki's disheveled state of a stupidly drunken night. He raises a brow at him, a silent question in the space between them. Shiki shrugs because he barely remembers why exactly he got nipple piercings even though a much more important question rings in the back of his head, one being how exactly he got himself so inebriated when he's part of the ones, if not then the  _ only one _ , with the highest alcohol tolerance of the whole group. 

"Have you seen my shirt?" He asks instead, voice low and husky. His throat is still incredibly dry.

"Did you check the floors?" 

"I didn't but I didn't notice it when I got up." 

Rei hums, "Maybe it's the shirt Takaaki was using to wipe his mouth with last night? Remember, he got motion sickness from his own driving and got out to puke?" 

Shiki blinks, stares at Rei for a moment before whipping his head around to Takaaki who is so clearly faking his snores. 

"You what?!" His voice cracks, however Takaaki already opened his eyes in mock surprise and getting up, yelling over his shoulder how he'll lock the car doors and have Shiki ride with Rei and Roa as Shiki sprints up to him, barely catching up to him as he watches the way his friend slams the door and locks all the doors. He stands there, half-way on the path to the vehicle, eyes narrowed as the brunette grins at him through the window, he then promptly flips him off, and Takaaki, ever the drama Queen, puts a hand on his chest as he gasps—it's inaudible for Shiki though—as if he's just been seriously shocked and offended by something he said. He rolls his eyes in response.

When they got back to the place they're staying at, Shiki bee lines to the bathroom and showers. Somehow, Takaaki gets in there with him sometime half-way through his showering and had to literally push him out. 

"I pay rent for this apartment!" Takaaki had shouted through the closed and locked door, banging on the wood.

"Can I get one day of being able to shower in peace?!" He'd shouted back, faintly he hears Shu chuckling in the background.

The day goes on, and it's soon the afternoon, where he finds himself in the café that Takaaki, and surprisingly Rei too, works at—he's lucky neither of them are in at the moment—when he spots a pretty pink haired boy, the afternoon sun casting a beautiful orange glow around him from where he sits by the window. 

He's breathless to say the least, and incredibly gay to say the most.

Later, he hears the boy's name be called out throughout the café, it rings gorgeously against his ears, the name making its way home to his mind.

He doesn't come back the next day in hopes of seeing the boy again. He doesn't come back for three weeks straight, quietly gazing upon the pink haired angel. He doesn't listen to the orders being said along with his name in hopes of memorizing it so he can order them for him one day. He does none of those, none at all.

"Wow, whipped much?" Takaaki quips with a knowing raise of his eyebrow while Rei sighs in the background, making someone else's order.

"Just get me the damn strawberry flavoured ice cream and spare me the embarrassment for later."

He spotted the boy in the park that day on his way to the café, and quietly made his way (read: ran) to said establishment to order the prettiest boy he's ever seen the strawberry flavoured food he seem so fond of.

"I'm Shiki!"

"I'm Rikka."

He came home with red cheeks, and a blubbering mess that Takaaki and Shu gladly took amusement from. "Absolutely whipped." 

"Cut him some slack." Shu replied, but the smile on his face didn't make Shiki feel any less embarrassment though. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be based on Troye Sivan's "Strawberries & Cigarettes" but somewhere along the line, it doesn't anymore, and I made this... Whatever "this" is.


End file.
